


Embellishment

by Nebulad



Series: Witch Doctor [3]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fortune Telling, Other, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: He thought about it for much less time than they’d expected him to— honestly, they hadn’t thought he’d play along. “Let’s stick with what I know— poor and desperate.”“That’s so sad.”“Less pity, more drama.”“Fine, fine— how desperate?”“I nobly restrained myself from throwing my whole body into your arms the moment you opened the door, in consideration for your height,” he said seriously. They nodded deeply and sat back.





	Embellishment

Julian stared down at the death card, his expression _theatrically_ distasteful. He clicked his tongue then slowly lifted his head to face them, eye to eye. “Still?”

Jhend bristled, gathering everything back up and reshuffling the deck. “I told you. You can’t reroll fate.”

“And I told _you—”_

“That death has no interest, yes. I remember. The thing is, though, that the death card doesn’t necessarily mean _death._ It doesn’t portend your inevitable, gory demise.”

“Unless Nadia finds me.”

Jhend scowled. “Yes, all right, _one_ person is trying to kill you. It doesn’t mean she’ll succeed. My guess?”

“Dear you’re not _guessing_ my fortune, are you?” He grinned and they rolled their eyes, standing up to grab the coffee kettle from the stove. On their way by him they tugged lightly on his hair, narrowly avoiding being caught in his grasp.

“It’s an educated guess on the specifics based on the vagaries spoken to me by the deck. Happy?”

“Not really. I’ve had readings done before, and most get downright long winded with details.” He stood fluidly and they tried to avoid giving him the satisfaction of following his whole lanky body as it rose, or visibly tensing when he came to drape himself over the counter. “And news travels fast— I’ve heard how specific you get with the Countess.”

They turned as they set the kettle on the heat. “You want to know a secret about tarot reading?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s biased. I’m biased. When someone who has no fucking idea how I do it _hears_ me do it, it all sounds very mystic and professional; in reality, when I draw an inverted Emperor card for Nadia, I can project a little. The card tells me that there’s an internal search for decisiveness and stability of power, whereas _I_ was just steamrolled _again_ after attempting to refuse to help her on her hunt for Doctor Devorak; so I embellish.” They shrugged.

He actually looked surprised, for some reason. “Talk about pulling the curtain back, Jhend.”

“Come on, Asra never told you how it works?” As soon as they said it, it sounded stupid.

“Asra wouldn’t tell me if he had the plague, just to be secretive about it. Does this mean that if I went out and bought a deck, learned what all the cards meant, I could tell fortunes as I pleased?” They’d left Asra’s cards on the counter and Julian gestured rather than actually touching them.

“It’s what half the fortune tellers in the city do.” The woman with the gold teeth came to mind, after they’d met Portia. In a weird way, she’d been sort of right— the future was bright, because they’d helped someone who’d become important later. Of course, an actual _reading_ had been refused so it was entirely an old woman trying to muscle in on the luck; rich patrons, especially well-known Apprentices, were highly sought after.

“What makes you different from them?” he asked idly, and they frowned.

“ _I’m_ never wrong. The risk, as a phony fortune teller, is always being exposed as phony. When you’re not fake, then you’re not fake.” The kettle whistled and they turned to busy themself with straining the grounds.

Julian retreated back to the reading table, leaning back on the legs on his chair. “That’s fair,” he allowed, staring off at the star maps pinned to the wall. He waited until they returned with two cups before continuing. “All right then, embellish.”

“Pardon?”

“You told my fortune— death card, change and transformation, all very good— but now I’d like the _embellishment,_ please.” He let his chair rest and leaned forward on his elbows and grinning wickedly. They stared him down for a moment, the implication that this was somehow a _performance_ chafing, but relented. How could they not— he was just, so… well, whatever. For the time being, strangely enough, he’d become their staunchest ally.

Still, giving in didn’t mean they had to make it easy. “So what, you’re a customer that’s walked in off the street and you want me to give you a good show?”

“Convince me,” he agreed.

“Well I’ll need more information then. Are you a _wealthy_ walk-in, or poor and desperate?” They had to be, if they turned to a fortune teller. The rich ones came in to waste an afternoon and scare each other.

He thought about it for much less time than they’d expected him to— honestly, they hadn’t thought he’d play along. “Let’s stick with what I know— poor and desperate.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Less pity, more drama.”

“Fine, fine— _how_ desperate?”

“I _nobly_ restrained myself from throwing my whole body into your arms the moment you opened the door, in consideration for your height,” he said seriously. They nodded deeply and sat back.

“Can I _tell_ how distraught you are, or is your show of strength convincing me?”

“Both. My face is set but my eye is distant and defeated by the crush of time.” They very narrowly choked back a laugh, folding their hands out in front of them.

“I dip into the back to grab my cards, after ushering you to the reading table and letting you get comfortable—”

“I am incredibly tense.”

“And I let you stew in that for a while, to build anticipation. So I’ve drawn the death card and explained it to you— how are you feeling? Does the thought of change seem to visibly reassure you?”

He took a moment to think, and if they were being honest he looked very pretty while doing so. “I’m troubled by my inability to understand, though not necessarily expecting doom.”

Finally, they sat up straight and looked at him squarely. “One more question and then I’ll get to the theatrics. Julian: do you intend to pay me for my services?” They weren’t surprised when he snorted, giving them the most _dastardly_ grin.

“I’ve been sweating and eyeing the door since you flipped the card,” he told them.

“That’s all I needed to know.” With that they reached forward and took his hands, fixing him with what they hoped was a very earnest expression— as opposed to embarrassingly stricken because this was really closer than what they… _did,_ as a weird pair. “What this card portends for your future, Julian, is a transformation. They don’t dictate to you how or when that change will happen— as always, your future is in _your_ hands, and this is but one of the many threads that may be woven into the tapestry of your life. Change as you see fit, and know that the cards will tell you no more than this.”

He waited until he was certain they were finished, actually looking a little bit thrown off— which served him right for assuming they put on some kind of kitschy play for every customer. “I am sufficiently mollified by your reassurance,” he told them, “and I make a break for the door.”

They smiled, resting their chin on their palm. “Sorry sweetheart, but the guard’s already there. I called them at the window when I was going to get the cards.”

“You’re having me _arrested?”_

“Only because you weren’t going to pay.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I’m _never_ wrong, though. I don’t need the cards to tell me the future,” they said, absolutely _beaming_ at how affronted he was. He took a deep drink of the coffee he’d let cool since they started the silly game, drumming his fingers on the table and then suddenly pointed at them.

“I’m not worried.”

“Of course.”

“I’ve escaped guards before.”

“Don’t be such a poor loser.”

“I haven’t lost! I could evade the guards—”

“That’s _cheating.”_

“Not if it _works.”_

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com) and it has [my commission post](nebulaad.tumblr.com/post/162182264019/writing-commissions).
> 
> This was supposed to get serious again at the end but I couldn't handle the tonal whiplash so I kept it breezy. That's just how Jhend do: calling out your crush for godmodding during roleplay. 10/10 Romantic.


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